


Pines of Love

by redcurlzbychoice



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: 31 Days of Ineffables, 31 Days of Ineffables Advent Calendar Challenge (Good Omens), 31 Days of Ineffables Advent Calendar Challenge 2019 (Good Omens), Aziraphale too, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Crowley is so soppily in love, December 11 PINE, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, Idiots in Love, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Kisses, Love Confessions, M/M, South Downs Cottage (Good Omens), Surprises, The Fluffiest Fluffy Fluff I‘ve Ever Written, Very Happy Surprises, lots of fluff, maybe not exactly Christmas but definitely crisp winter nights fluff, winter fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-11
Updated: 2019-12-11
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:55:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21747889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redcurlzbychoice/pseuds/redcurlzbychoice
Summary: „Good morning, my love, did you sleep well?“ Aziraphale greets his yawning Demon when he wakes up, stretching his long limbs and delightfully rubbing the last dream from his golden eyes.„I made you some coffee.“ To add, with barely hushed up curiosity „When are we going to leave?“„Nggkfmpf!“ is all Crowley can master without coffeine, and he looks so adorable all sleepy-eyed and with his hair ruffled, he is oozing temptation for another turn in bed.Usually when Crowley takes the lead these days Aziraphale is eager to follow his Demon wherever he wants to take them, though today for a change the angel would prefer him to get them out of the house and to the surprise Crowley has been talking about last night.—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—Crowley has prepared a surprise for Aziraphale, and he‘s going to take his Angel for a ride. Somewhere along the way the Pine Trees from Drawlight‘s Advent Calendar Prompts List show up, and they play a rather shiny role in the end.————————Lots of domestic fluff. Definitely the fluffiest fluffy fluff I‘ve written so far.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 62





	Pines of Love

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Drawlight's Advent Calendar Challenge. December 11th: „PINE“

It‘s December in the winter after Armaggotonwithit and Crowley has been out the whole day.

This isn’t unusual, he often goes back to London for a day on his own, „to recharge his demonic vibes“, he tells Aziraphale, but the angel knows that he more often than not just likes to check up on Warlock, make sure he‘s doing fine at his new school, and he suspects that Crowley also rummages record and book stores, because sometimes after such a trip Crowley puts on a record with some new psychadelic bebop (*), playing it full volume, sprawling himself on the fluffy carpet in their living room and sort of hovering a hand‘s width over the floor while getting lost in this music of the spheres.

(* Aziraphale has gotten accustomed to this kind of music by now, it seems Crowley’s favourite style. One would have suspected Queen to be his favourite style, but Queen have roamed so many styles in music, that the only attempt at a classification can be as his favourite band).

And quite often a week or so after such a trip a book shows up miraculously that Aziraphale has been trying to hunt down for quite some time.

Crowley then only shrugs his bony shoulders and refuses to take any responsibility or praise, but later at night he‘ll be so much more relaxed and for a few hours the cast out demon will allow his whole body and soul to indulge in Aziraphale‘s angelic affirmations of love. His kisses and caresses become ever so much fonder and even more devoted, and Aziraphale revels in spoiling him rotten with his love in these nights. And they both love each other even more for that, if that‘s possible at all.  
  


Today though Aziraphale is getting rather worried as Crowley put on this thickest and warmest winter clothes before leaving unusually early in the morning (his Demon likes to sleep in, cuddeled up to Aziraphale’s warm soft body, and Aziraphale savours every minute of it) and he isn’t back yet.

It’s been dark outside for a couple of hours, and Aziraphale knows how little his demon can endure the cold.

He‘s opened up a bottle of Mouton-Rothschild, decanting it carefully, and the wine is just about ready to drink with its aromas out at their fullest, when Aziraphale hears the engine of the Bentley outside, tyres screetching to a halt, and Crowley wriggles in.

„Crowley!“ Aziraphale exclaims in apprehension, because his lithe Demon shakes and shudders from the cold he’s obviously been in all day.

„’S fine, Angel, I‘ll be allright in a sec,“ he wobbles through clenched teeth.

Aziraphale puts another log on the fire, miracles the lovely wine into an equally lovely mulled wine with warm spices at exactly the right temperature to drink (which is quite a waste on the finer undertones of the full-bodied Bordeaux, but Crowley needs a tickle of heat inside him now much more than a tickle on his taste buds) and settles with Crowley on the sofa in front of the fire under their cosiest blanket. Crowley curls himself immediately as closely as possible around the angel’s soft body, his most preferred source of warmth in this whole restored world. Crowley’s lips nuzzling at the delicate skin of his throat, Aziraphale feels the waves of shiver running through his demon slowly grow fainter (yet he cherishes every shiver of delight running through his own angelic body on the feeling of Crowley’s lips) and after the second mug of mulled wine he asks „Do tell me, dearest, where have you been in this freezing weather outside?“

But when Crowley claims „‘s a surprise, Angel, for you. Show you tomorrow,“ and refuses to reveal anything further, he quietly miracles a third filling into his mug and watches as Crowley goes limp little by little, and with an utterly content smile on his face the demon falls asleep.

It‘s been Crowley‘s idea, of course, to get a sofa nearly as big as a bed, him being the one who so often falls asleep within a few minutes once his head has nestled onto any part of Aziraphale when they cuddle up in the evenings (and which provides enough cosy space for both of them when Crowley takes his mid-morning and afternoon naps in front of the fire)

Aziraphale tucks his sleeping Demon‘s head onto a soft pillow and his body under another warm blanket, puts some more logs on the fire for cosy warmth lasting the rest of the night and settles himself back on the sofa with a beautifully illustrated edition of Shakespeare‘s Sonnets to read. Before opening the book though he casts one glance to Crowley‘s dreamy face, just to make sure his Demon is feeling as snug as a snake in a rug, and his eyes linger on the auburn hair, glowing like embers in the shine of the fire.

Aziraphale traces his Demon‘s features with his gaze, the elegantly curved eyebrows, the thin but luscious lips. The book remains closed, as the angel runs his fingers through the soft hair, reciting his own Sonnet For Crowley over and over again until the sun rises in the east.

——————————

„Good morning, my love, did you sleep well?“ Aziraphale greets his yawning Demon when he wakes up, stretching his long limbs and delightfully rubbing the last dream from his golden eyes.

„I made you some coffee.“ To add, with barely hushed up curiosity „When are we going to leave?“

„Nggkfmpf!“ is all Crowley can master without coffeine, and he looks so adorable all sleepy-eyed and with his hair ruffled, he is oozing temptation for another turn in bed.

Usually when Crowley takes the lead these days Aziraphale is eager to follow his Demon wherever he wants to take them, though today for a change the angel would prefer him to get them out of the house and to the surprise he‘s been talking about.

While Aziraphale indulges in his full English breakfast, Crowley sips his coffee and slowly wakes up, his hair gradually coiffing itself to its usual sleek hairstyle in the process.

When he‘s back to his stylish self, Aziraphale asks again „Now, dear, when are we going to leave?“

Crowley smirks suggestively, and starts to prepare some hot drinks and food to take along.

„Oh, it‘s going to be a picnic, then?“ Aziraphale is elated. Since that first proposal of a picnic years ago dining under the open sky has always held a special zest for them.

„Hmmm, picnic, yeah, that too, but there‘s a bit more, really,“ Crowley insinuates vaguely and won‘t explain more.

They miracle up the food and pour hot cocoa and some more of the mulled wine into thermos jugs, and finally leave just before midday.

Crowley drives west, that much Aziraphale realises.

When they cross the River Severn, Aziraphale is at a loss. What did Crowley do in Wales? There’s only one Whisky Destillery he knows of, and Aziraphale can think of little else his demon would spend a whole day in the cold for.

Dusk approaches when Crowley leaves the M 4. The Penderyn Destillery is still miles to the west. Crowley turns North, and Aziraphale is just able to read a sign pointing to a hamlet called Pen-y-cae-mawr, when Crowley steers the Bentley into the thick woods of Wentwood Forest.

The huge old car should have trouble on the rough tracks, but as Crowley doesn’t think so, their journey is even smoother than on the motorway until Crowley stops at a small clearing.

They haven’t talked much on the journey, mostly Aziraphale had pointed to some scenic landmarks and recalled happy memories * of what blessings he did there.

(* Though on one occasion Crowley couldn’t help but point out with his trademark smirk in what kind of a mess his Angel had gotten himself again with ending up on the top floor of a barn with the pigs bustling and weeking below, because he had his pockets full of edibles the pigs would so have loved to have a share of themselves, until Crowley came to his rescue again. And peeking at his Angel who got all flustered at this citation he couldn’t help but lovingly laugh out loud so much that he had to pull over and kiss his fussy Angel over and over again.)

Once in a while the angel gingerly inquired into their whereabouts, but he‘d never get more than a „You‘ll see, Angel, wait till you see yourself.“ And the knowing smile, yet thrilling with anticipation, offered freely with this more than vague indication drove the angel nearly nuts.

  
Crowley opens the Bentley’s door for Aziraphale and he alights and finally sees -

Nothing.

Nothing except darkness. Utter, deepest darkness.

„So, this is why we drove for hours, into the cold, dark woods, to look at trees that we can not even see in this non existing illumination? Crowley, you surely didn‘t catch a fever yesterday? Are you really feeling allright, my love?“ Aziraphale pendulates between indignation and anxiety.

„Look up, dear.“ Crowley says softly, and they both look up to the night sky.

An uncountable number of stars twinkle and glisten like diamonds on the velvety firmament.

„Oh,“ Aziraphale sighs. „There‘s so much more of them out here. They are beautiful indeed.“ To add „Thank you for showing me.“

„There‘s more to see, love, than just the stars up there, if you look closely.“ Crowley hints, and Aziraphale gets even more delighted. A puzzle.He knows, Crowley will lead him step by step, and he is sure that he will love any answer to his question.

„Weeeell, let me see then,“ he starts and walks around the clearing. The trees of the forest peek in in many angles, and Aziraphale wonders faintly what shape the clearing might have from birds view, as it seems vaguely familiar.

„The trees...?“ Crowley suggests, keeping up with his Angel, circling him slowly as has been his habit for hundreds of years.

„Why, there are a lot of the old oaks, still, and other deciduous trees that I cannot distinguish really without their leaves and in the dark. And then of course all these conifers that they put in these days to replant the original trees, ...“

„Conifers, you’re right,love.“ Crowley interrupts fondly. „Any idea which kind of conifers were planted here?“ he guides his Angel.

„Why, I‘m not exactly an expert on trees when they‘re still growing, I rather deal with them in their chopped and mashed and dried form,“ Aziraphale shuffles.

„What would you comprehend if I told you that these conifers here are pines, all of different ages?“ Crowley looks straight into his Angel’s face now, with this look in his eyes he only has when baring his very soul for his Angel, and Aziraphale gasps.

„Pine trees! _You_ planted the pines because...“

„One for every year of pining, hm.“

Even in the dark Aziraphale can see, and so much more feel in his soul, the blush of love in Crowley’s face.

„You did!“

„Hm, came here every year to plant one more. Started when we settled on the Isles. Before that I planted them wherever I happened to be. There‘s still one up in California from way back.“

„Oh, Crowley!“ Aziraphale’s love lights up the clearing and he cups his Demon‘s cheeks to pull him in for a passionate kiss.

Crowley kisses him back, of course, entwining his Angel’s body with his long arms. He’ll never grow weary of Aziraphale‘s kisses, he‘s pined for them for so long, and sometimes he still can’t believe this is for real.

When their lips part, finally, Crowley smirks at Aziraphale, because he knows he‘s going to blow his Angel’s mind by saying „Ehm, there‘s more, Angel. What took me so long yesterday, see, ehm, you wanna see?“ and Aziraphale indeed is flabbergasted.

Usually Crowley would be very pleased by himself at this point, but tonight he‘s just excited about showing Aziraphale the whole picture.

And he can downright feel the anticipation thrilling through his Angel when he adds tenderly „You‘ll need to get your wings out, Angel.“

„My wings? Why? And you? - Oh!“ Aziraphale gazes at Crowley’s night black wings that have spread out wide without a single sound. And he utters another „Oh!“ when he realises Crowley has planned this stunner for quite some time. „I should think, that‘s why you offered to groom my wings so often last week!“

„Mmmh, wanted ‘em to be in tip-top condition really. And because you like it, too. You do like it, Angel?“

„You very well know how much I do love your ... soft hands in this ruffled plumage of mine.“ Aziraphale can‘t help but blush a little himself, of course he knows as good as Crowley which sounds of praise the demon‘s hands can elicit from the angelic lips simply by pulling and stroking the shiny bright feathers with his proficient fingers.

„Ready, Angel?“ Crowley gently reaches out for Aziraphale and hand in hand they soar upwards into the crisp December night.

„Ready, Angel?“ he asks again when they float in the air above the ancient woodland. He pulls in his Angel tight, and snips his fingers.

Aziraphale won‘t even master an „Oh!“ when the lights in the forest below begin to shine.

He looks down to the picture the lights in the trees form on the background of the dark forest and without asking he knows that Crowley has carefully put one light on top of every single pine he diligently planted over the course of all these years.

Aziraphale realises Crowley still holds him tight, and he is thankful, because he is too overwhelmed by his feelings to keep him suspended in the air by himself right now.

The angel is overcome by love and thankfulness for his Demon to have made him this extraordinary gift, thankful for choosing the right side, thankful for them finally being together. But most of all Aziraphale is thankful that Crowley, this brilliant, always loving and pining and longing demon, never ever deviated from his impossible love for an angel since the dawn of time. That it‘s been this brave, fervent and unswerving demon who chose to love an insecure, timid and soft angel throughout the millennia. Who stood up against Satan himself and helped to save the world only because he just couldn’t _bear_ the sheer notion of never hearing this silly angel‘s chitchat ever again.

Aziraphale leans in to Crowley’s embrace, the eloquent angel is at a loss for words, and so he kisses him again in mid air, suspended and circling midway between below and above, black wings and white feathers, opposites united in this unlikely, ineffable love.

Crowley drinks in his love and kisses into his parched soul. Being a demon, he should feel smug now, but instead he only feels the elation of having made his friend, his love happy, and a spark of this exuberant happiness falls from his eyes like a fallen star through the cold air and onto the dark forest below.

Down there hundreds and thousands of illuminated pine trees form a resplendent image, reflecting the stars above. A sculptor of galaxies once, Crowley with these pines and sparkling lights has created shining wings, spread out wide throughout the forest, and between the lights the shadow of the clearing forms a winged figure of darkness.

But only from a point of view where an angel and a demon embrace in the deep of the starry velveteen sky it is obvious that the bright wings of light still shelter the figure of shadowy darkness from the very first rain of Eden.

—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed!
> 
> Again, a tiny idea evolved into this much. I just cannot do short fics, it seems.
> 
> Wentwood (Forest) is the largest ancient woodland in Wales, located to the north east of Newport in Monmouthshire.  
> I just love it when I discover that a silly idea of mine indeed can be grounded on reality somehow. 
> 
> As always, kudos and comments would be so much appreciated....
> 
> Happy holidays to anyone out there!
> 
> And now I‘ll have to do my Christmas Cookies...
> 
> ...............
> 
> Addendum Feb 16th 2020:  
> OMG, I can’t believe it!  
> There really!!! is a farmer who did exactly what I imagined Crowley to do!  
> Check out this link on tumblr: 
> 
> https://angst420.tumblr.com/post/190745166257/milktree-a-heart-shaped-meadow  
> „A heart-shaped meadow, created by a farmer as a tribute to his late wife, can be seen from the air near Wickwar, South Gloucestershire.“  
> (Coordinates are 51,6073 Latitude / -2,3865 Longitude, just a bit North-East of Wickwar. If you want to check it out yourself.)
> 
> Honestly, I was sent this link only today. I had no clue this idea of mine indeed has been created in reality. (And not too far off Wentwood Forest, actually.)
> 
> Kudos to love and devoted couples anywhere!


End file.
